TW: Death.
My mother’s former colleague and a good friend died yesterday. Cardiac arrest. He is closer to mum’s age and they worked together for a few years. His son announced the demise of his father on the latter’s WhatsApp status, which is how mum knew. She texted me the screenshot of the announcement. No words. Just the image. I didn’t know what to say. I offered my sincere condolences and asked her how she felt. Radio silence. I called her this morning, just to check on her. It was, after all, her good friend. She sounded low, looked distressed. We didn’t speak much.
“Ammu, life is so short and unpredictable. It is with this randomness that we hold grudges against others and say that we hate them. All it takes is one crucial part of the body to stop functioning one fine morning. It all ends there. Your hatred, grudges, pettiness, debt. Why bother,” she said, in a defeated voice. She calls me ‘ammu’. She always has and always will, I guess.
Up until recently, I had thought death as a slow-approaching monster that is very far from me. I hadn’t really thought that much about death to my immediate family or the people I love. Now I am thinking about it. Actively and consciously. Logically, I know that all of us die at some point. But am I ready for it emotionally? I don’t think so. Grief is hard. I don’t think any of us would choose grief on purpose.
That train of thought made me drift into the concept of being ‘ready’. Over years, my ideas around it have evolved, thanks to therapy. From firmly believing that ‘one has to be completely ready for a life event’ (the word ‘completely’ being key) to now being accommodating to the idea of ‘no one is ever completely ready for anything’, I have grown. And as years will pass by, I am leaning more towards the latter idea. I don’t think anyone can be fully prepared to what life has to offer, at any point in time. It is all ‘we will figure out as we go’. (I think I am getting better at doing this, btw. That’s a story for another day)
My therapist said this - “The idea of therapy is to equip us with the confidence and faith that we can overcome whatever life throws at us. Not that we can prevent misfortunes from happening. You see, that is not in our control.” How true. Obvious, yet profound. Therapy sessions, in recent times, have pushed me to think a lot about life, death, pain, grief, sorrow, joy, contentment, love, friendship, support, respect…you get the idea. It makes me ruminate often, sometimes while walking to and from college, sometimes while sitting by the lake and sometimes while chilling at home.
That led me to think about telling people I love them. Cutting off those who are toxic to me. Enjoy the presence of those who make me feel good and respected and cherished and protect myself from people who put me down. Maybe I should tell my parents that I love them, no matter what. Maybe I should speak more to my brother. Maybe I should schedule more dinners, teas and drinks with friends. Maybe I should do more video-calls with my friends abroad. Maybe I should tell people I love that I love them. It all sounds laborious but I don’t want to wake up one day to the news of their death. I don’t want to, then, rue all the chances I had and never took.